


Tomorrow the green grass

by MinilocIsland



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinilocIsland/pseuds/MinilocIsland
Summary: Sometimes you feel obliged to do certain things, even if you don’t want to.And sometimes, if it's for the ones you love, you want to - even if it’s scary.That doesn't mean it's easy.Or - the reason why Isak did get his driver's license after all.





	Tomorrow the green grass

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so honored and happy to have been given the chance to write a fic for the beautiful, beautiful drawing by jydoodles that you'll find [here](https://irazor.tumblr.com/post/176762641333/tomorrow-the-green-grass-by-irazor) \- thank you so much for sharing your amazing talent with this fandom!
> 
> Title from the Jayhawks.
> 
> This was betaed by the lovely, talented [vesperthine](https://vesperthine.tumblr.com) \- thank you for making my work better yet again. <3
> 
> And a million thanks to Julia for organizing another one of these events - I can't wait for the next one!
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this!

It’s a rainy Thursday afternoon, clock ticking onto half past three, and Isak is holding on to the wheel of Even’s parents’ car, grip as tight as the first time he sat there. Gaze fastened straight ahead on the E18 that winds through the countryside like a giant grey snake, fir trees swishing by on both sides.

They’re on their way to Even’s parents’ cabin, and Isak’s pretty sure that there’s a special reason for the trip this time. Even though the forecast has predicted rain for the whole weekend, Even was set on going. Isak suspects it might have something to do with tomorrow’s date.

Summer solstice. June 21st. Even might try to fool him into thinking that tomorrow won’t be anything special - but Isak knows better by now.

It’s been raining for the better part of the drive, a soft, steady drizzle that soaks everything through. In the passenger seat, Even is leaning his head against the window. Isak hardly has the courage to avert his focus from the road to look at him for even a split second, but he can tell from his slouched position and the deep, heavy breathing that Even is tired. He’d been driving for more than two hours straight, had said that he was okay to continue after their short pit stop at the gas station half an hour ago. But Isak wouldn’t have it.

Isak's dad offered to pay for his driving lessons when he graduated – the same week as his 18th birthday – but it was easy to brush it off as guilt money back then. Besides, why would he need to drive, anyway?

The answer became obvious about six months later.

A little too many shifts at KB to save up for their summer holiday, plus trying to craft his portfolio, had led Even to have a minor episode a few weeks before Christmas.

Nothing like the first time, like that terrifying night after the hotel. More like a few nights of too little sleep, a little too much talking too late at night. But it was enough to make Isak realize: he wanted to be able to step in.

Not that he needed to, this time. As instructed, he’d called Even’s parents the minute he realized something was off, and they set up the appointment and followed them to the hospital. Even didn’t need admission that time – an adjusted dosage and some sleeping pills was enough.

And somebody at home to watch over him.

That part, Isak had no doubt that he could manage. But as he sat there on their bed, tucking Even in for the night as they returned home and the extra zopiclone they had been given finally kicked in, he started thinking.

What if, the next time, Even’s parents wouldn’t be there? What if they’d be off to some conference again? Or in the cabin?

He remembered the almost full week Even didn’t get out of bed at all, a year before that, how they took turns to watch over him at kollektivet. It might not have been optimal, even if it was the best they could offer just then. And Even did come out fine, eventually.

But an actual, full-blown depression? For Isak to handle, all by himself, in their little apartment? Relying on his own parents was out of the question, if Even’s wouldn’t be able to be there.

And he’d realized: yes, if it comes down to that, I could call an ambulance. I could call his mum and dad and ask them to come home.

_But do I want to?_

It’s not like he _has_ to manage all by himself. That much, he knows. He knew it then, too. But when he can do something for Even, he wants to.

So he’d bitten back his pride, his resentment and his inured independence, and opened his laptop to book a ten-lesson beginner’s course at the driving school two blocks down; Even sleeping beside him at last, blue-striped duvet hugging his skinny shoulders.

The thing is: he’s had his license now for over a year, but he’s just never comfortable enough. Even keeps telling him to lean his head against the headrest, draw the seat back a few more inches, let his arms fall down. Still, he can’t find that relaxed, natural position that everyone else seem to maintain while driving.

Because, the scariest part about driving isn’t the traffic itself. It’s not even all the little things he has to remember: check the rearview mirror, the speed meter, the gas.

It’s the knowledge that he, literally, has Even’s life in his hands.

That if he slips, makes a mistake, falls asleep at the wheel – it’s Isak’s fault, and his alone.

Funnily enough, that’s not at all what it feels like in their everyday life. Being there for Even in all the other ways has never scared him.

In the corner of his eye, Even shifts a little. It’s hard enough to fit those long legs comfortably inside the car when he’s awake – but trying to find sleep, he’s so tangled up in himself that it’s almost hard to tell which limb is which. At least from this angle.

An annoyed, sleepy grunt to his right, and Isak can’t resist to let go of the wheel for a short second, letting a hand rest on Even’s thigh, a quiet reassurance.

_I’ve got you._

He can hear Even exhale, feel the leg muscles under his palm relax, even if he doesn’t dare to look.

It’s a good thing, this – taking a part of the burden, being able to drive for a bit. Visiting the cabin becomes much easier like this, when they can split the miles between them.

Reluctantly, he moves his hand back to the steering wheel. The rain is heavier now, and obscures his view of the road; the windshield wipers not able to work fast enough. The cars ahead and to the side splash up even more water around them, and there are tracks in the road that have filled up with the rain.

_Tests have shown that aquaplaning is likely to occur already at 76 kilometers per hour if the wheels are worn down. 96 kilometers per hour when the wheels are new._

Wonder when Even’s parents last changed their wheels. Does Even know? Isak resists an impulse to shake his leg to wake him up and ask. Why would he know that, anyway?

Even shifts beside him again, exhaling, and straightens up a little.

“Hi, baby,” he says in a hoarse whisper. “Never thought I’d be able to fall asleep – but I guess I did.”

Isak huffs, a bit annoyed that he can’t lean in to feel Even’s sleep-soft cheek against his own. “You sure did. I could hear you snore all the way over here.”

“Wow. From all the way over there. Your hearing abilities never cease to impress me.”

If Isak could roll his eyes without losing sight of the road, he would. Not awake for even thirty seconds and already teasing – yes, he knows how the corners of Even’s mouth are turned upwards without having to look.

He really wishes he could stay in their familiar bubble, banter back for a while longer, but it’s too much when he has to hold on to the wheel and keep watch. Confined to this metal cage, the rain as compact as ever, string-thin beams like a grid around the car.

Even’s phone pings, and a part of Isak is happy for it – anything drawing the focus away from his driving a welcome distraction.

”It’s Mum,” Even says. ”She wonders if we’re there yet.”

Isak’s pulse speeds up minutely – how fast does she think he is? _She_ should be the one trying to get there that fast in this weather. It’s not like it’s _his_ fault that the rain never stops and other cars swosh by dangerously close, forcing him to slow down every hundred meters –

”Oh, and I forgot to tell you,” Even interrupts his thoughts, apparently oblivious to what’s going on inside Isak. ”They… might have heard that we couldn’t afford to go abroad this summer.”

”What do you mean?” He tightens his grip on the wheel.

”Well, when I was there yesterday to pick up the car, they asked what were doing for the rest of the holiday. And I – well, I couldn’t lie.”

It’s simple as that – they can’t afford anything this summer. One year into his molecular biology programme, Isak still has to wait for a more qualified part-time job, working weekends and nights at the Kiwi across the street from their apartment.

His dad paid for his license, that part is true, but the monthly rent money stopped trickling in the day he graduated. Probably, he considered Isak adult enough to deal with it himself by then.

Even works a few shifts now and then outside of his studies at Westerdals, and he does gather a fair amount of tips – being tall, insanely handsome, and having a smile for everyone – but they, together, make sure to limit the shifts to a maximum of twice per week.

The consequences of Even overworking has become clear enough to the both of them.

All in all, this week-long cabin trip is what they’re given this summer. Not that Isak could find it in himself to complain – a week away with Even, just by themselves, is as close to paradise his secular self could wish for – but still. The rest of the summer will be spent in the city, in their apartment, which is a heavenly sanctuary but also very small. And hot.

”So,” Even continues, ”I guess they felt kind of sorry for us or something...” He pauses, and when he picks up again his voice is wary. ”Anyhow, we actually can afford to go somewhere now because they gave us five thousand kroner as a summer present. Or we could get that VR set that I know you want for the Xbox. Or something.”

Isak is fully aware why Even is rambling like this. And he hates to be the reason for it, but the fact remains – he doesn’t know how to accept these things. Gifts. Obvious tokens of love, and of care.

It doesn’t take an amateur psychologist like Eva to tell him that it’s the blatant lack of such care from his own parents that has left him incapacitated like this – the driving license money being the exception to the rule.

”Okay,” he says, knuckles whitening, stare fastened on the sloshy road ahead.

He knows how hard Even is fighting himself not to reach out a hand to touch him right now. He doesn’t, though, because Isak is driving, and that consideration and care is suddenly all too much for this small compartment. His heart doesn’t really fit inside his chest like it uses to, and his throat tightens, trapping the air in his lungs.

”I know it’s… difficult for you to be on the receiving end of these things,” Even says, his voice careful.

Isak huffs. ”You don’t say,” he deadpans, trying not to come off as bitter as he’s feeling.

”Isak.” Even’s voice sounds distant somehow. ”Let’s take a break. I’m good to drive again, I’ve slept.”

”I’m fine.”

”Baby. You’re not.” Even’s voice is so soft and so full of concern that Isak wants to put his full weight on the brake pedal, run off and leave the car in the middle of the motorway.

”I said I’m fine! Stop nagging me about it!”

He regrets the words the second they stumble out, and now his heart is picking up pace and his hands are getting clammy and _fuck._ Not here. Not now.

A tear pressing to come out the corner of his eye, a hand coming to rest on his right hip. _Fuck._ If he could let go of the wheel for even a fraction of a second, he’d swat it away.

”Come on, baby,” Even’s voice echoes from somewhere to his right. ”There’s an exit coming up right here, just take it, okay?”

_Whatever._ More tears are forming now, blurring his vision that’s already narrowed down, and no matter how much he hates it, he realizes that he has to take a break now or they’ll crash because he can’t _see._ That thought is the only thing that makes him change lanes and drive onto the exit that says _Tangvald._

What happens next is almost laughable in its predictability. Just as they drive across the overpass and the sea comes into view, Isak sees the sun breaking through over Skagerrak. It’s like a scene from one of Even’s favourite movies, one of those that Isak complains about all the way through but secretly likes.

”Look.” Even points to a sign at the side of road that says _Rest area, 2 km._ ”I think we used to stop there sometimes when I was a kid.”

By now, there’s no energy left in Isak to protest, so he meekly blinks and drives onto the tiny gravel road between the fir trees. After a few hundred meters, the vegetation clears up and the road comes to an end by a small, grassy clearing, facing the sea; the sudden sunbeams making the waves on the surface sparkle. The whole place is borderline ridiculous, too perfect.

There’s a wooden table with two attached benches close to the line of trees. Isak shivers at the mere thought of how soaked and cold his pants would get if he sat down on the wet planks.

Part of him wants to stay in the car, doesn’t want to face the fact that he actually needs to give up the wheel now. To admit to failure.

He’s been so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t register Even getting out of the car, until the click of a handle, followed by his own door opening

Even stands there, beside the open car door, and without saying anything, he reaches out his hand for Isak to take. A small, patient smile on his face. An invitation, if he wants to. No pressure. Just an offer.

Isak can’t fathom how Even sometimes exactly knows what he needs, and when he needs it.

Sighing, he loosens his seatbelt, lifting the other hand to take hold of Even’s. He’s not ready to come out of his angry bubble yet, but this, he can manage. Until the belt comes up and traps his arm, leaving him unable to get out.

”You need to let go of me if we’re gonna do this,” Even says, and Isak knows he has a hard time suppressing the grin forming on his face. There’s no fooling Isak, though.

”Do what?” Slipping his left hand out of Even’s and out from behind the seat belt, he swings his legs out and stands up. He stretches up onto his toes and lifts his legs one by one, as if trying to shake the last remnants of irritation and anger off along with the stiffness from sitting down for too long.

”This,” Even answers, taking his hand again and pulling him over to the patch of grass, bright green and glistening from thousands of tiny raindrops reflecting the sun. In the middle of the clearing, he stops, opening his arms.

Isak comes, lets himself be pressed against Even’s chest, stiff at first, but it doesn’t take many strokes from Even’s hands along his spine before he can’t help but melt into the embrace. Letting out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding, his head falls onto Even’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

Even doesn’t answer, just keeps stroking his shoulders, his back, carding a hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, holds him still for a moment.

“You know,” he says eventually, “I’ve been thinking about what I’d like for us for have.”

Isak can feel himself stiffen again. _A trusting, open-hearted relationship. Where you don’t have to hide anything from the other._

Part of him wants that. To be able to just say, straight up, what he thinks. Like Even: not tying a knot of his heartstrings from the smallest acts of affection and care. Knowing that it won’t be taken away any second after you’ve accepted it.

He wants to. So bad. He just wishes it wasn’t so hard.

He buries his nose in the crook of Even’s neck, like nothing will happen if he doesn’t answer. Waiting for whatever Even has in mind. He doesn’t feel like confessing anything right now. Why can’t Even read his mind like he usually does, divert his twisted thoughts onto something else instead and make him forget?

“I was thinking – I’d like a cabin of our own someday.”

Isak lifts his head, a few lashes sticking together as he meets Even’s gaze – and he knows. He should know better than to count Even out of this game.

“Really? And how do you think we’d be able to afford that?” The second he says it, he hears how petulant it sounds.

But Even just lifts a hand and strokes his cheek, all while he tilts his head to the side and smiles, that fond, borderline teasing smile that Isak knows so well.

“Oh, when you’re a famous molecular biologist and I’m a famous… film-something, it’ll be no problem,” Even teases.

“A famous molecular biologist?” Isak snorts. “Name _one_ famous molecular biologist.”

Even puts a finger to his chin, mock-staring out into the distance. “Ehm… Marie Curie? Isaac Newton?”

“Jesus Christ, Even. You’re fucking hopeless.” Isak shoves him a little in the chest, but without heat, and the laugh pouring out of Even is enough to make Isak’s face split up just like the sky did a few minutes ago. He can’t help but smile when Even’s like this, and Even _knows_ it.

Even just looks at him, eyes twinkling with a mischief Isak should have seen coming way sooner, before he abruptly pulls Isak in and down onto the ground. Even lands on his back, Isak splayed out on top of him, but his knees hit the grass by Even’s side, wetness seeping through his jeans immediately.

“Even!”

He shouts, but Even’s laugh is unstoppable now, eyes crinkling at the corners, almost disappearing, and it tugs at his heart just like the first time, on that windowsill in Even’s old room. A wave of affection rushes through him, paired with a sting of bad conscience over how easy it had been to ruin the mood, with Even taking him away for his birthday and conjuring money out of nowhere for yet another vacation. “My knees are all wet now,” is all that comes out of his stupid mouth, tongue tied with all the other things he wishes he knew how to say.

“And what do you think my back is?” Even retorts, grinning, irresistible in all his stupidity.

Isak’s eyes roll back in his head completely of their own volition this time. “God, Even. I don’t even know where to begin with you.”

“It made you think of something else, didn’t it?” Even smiles in that suggestive, expectant way that he _knows_ Isak can’t resist, wiggling his eyebrows. “Try it. Sit back and feel it. It’s not that bad.”

Isak huffs. “Feel what? Nature embracing my ass?”

“Come on,” Even laughs. “Just do it. We have loads of dry jeans in the car. Do it for me, Isak.”

“Dork.”

Isak snorts, but complies, shuffling back to half-lie in the wet grass, elbow beside Even’s chest, faces only a few decimeters apart. His t-shirt soon gets soaked at the side, clinging onto his skin, and he doesn’t even want to think about the grass stains forming on the hip of his jeans. But it’s surprisingly alright, this – not caring, no second thoughts, just this moment, and the knowledge that whatever discomfort he feels will pass.

Even’s hair gleams golden at his temples, and he lifts one arm behind his head, leaning back, small smile on his face, endlessly fond. They study each other in silence for a while, no rush or need to say anything.

“Don’t you agree, though?” Even says, eventually.

Isak furrows his brow. “Agree on what?”

“About the cabin. Getting our own summer hideout.” He reaches up a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from Isak’s forehead, gently stroking it behind his ear.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Isak can’t do anything else than smile back. “Only one thing, though. We won’t get it when you’re a famous film- _something,_ we’re getting it when you’ve directed your first film. One that isn’t about some dolls falling in love with each other in a shoebox.”

Even giggles violently and throws his head back, the long expanse of his neck stretched out in front of Isak and suddenly, it hits him how Even never seems to be scared of exposing himself to him. In whatever way.

“How do you do it?” he blurts out.

Even tilts his head back up, laugh lingering in the corners of his mouth, but gaze serious. “What do you mean?”

“Just – you always know what to say to make me feel better. And I’m so caught up in myself sometimes I don’t even know how to explain things to you, even though you know me better than anyone.”

Even’s eyes soften at the corners.

“It’s true,” Isak maintains. “You’ve been through so much, and still, you can see the best in me when I don’t deserve it. It’s like you’re not – scarred at all.” _Not like I am,_ he doesn’t say, but he knows that Even hears it anyway.

Even takes his hand, studying it carefully, letting his fingers stroke patterns on the back of it. “You know, there’s this big difference between us that I so wish didn’t exist.” He looks up again. “I’ve always had support at home. Always. And I know that you’re past that childhood phase now where you really need your parents, but – my mum and dad – they really want to be there for you too. It’s not a sacrifice for them, you know.”

Isak looks down at Even’s hand holding his own, thumb drawing infinite eights in his palm. Intellectually, he knows it’s true, of course. And lying here in the grass beside Even, rain soaking through his pants, uncomfortable and overwhelmed by the beauty around him, he can at least try to believe it.

Before he even has time to open his mouth, however, Even speaks again. “You know why? Not only because you’re the world’s hottest genius molecular biologist. Yes, you are, don’t even try,” he grins, forestalling Isak’s obvious retort before his features soften again. His voice turns lower, gentler, as he lifts a hand to Isak’s neck. “It’s because they know how happy you make me.”

“Sap,” Isak says, but lets himself be pulled into the kiss nonetheless.

As they break apart, Even makes a distressed noise. “This really is uncomfortable. My back is all drenched.”

Isak resists the urge to roll his eyes this time. just lets his gaze linger a little longer than usual on the blue in Even’s eyes.

“Let’s change pants and get going,” he agrees with a small smile. “I’ll drive for a while longer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://irazor.tumblr.com), I'm irazor there. ❤️


End file.
